A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood - Part 2

 

I stood up on shaky legs and looked at myself—at Maggie—in the mirror again. The mirror still showed Maggie's face, her—my—blonde hair falling in messy waves around her shoulders. 

I needed to think. Maybe if I just went back to bed and fell asleep again, I'd wake up as myself. Maybe this was just some bizarre lucid dream.

But the cold tile under my feet felt too real. The slight ache in my lower back felt too real. Even the faint smell of Rob's cologne lingering in the bathroom felt too real.

I took a deep breath. First things first—I needed to figure out where my real body was. Was I still me somewhere? Or was my consciousness simply transferred? And if I was here... who was in my body?

Oh God. What if Maggie was in my body? What if she was waking up next to my wife right now?

The full shock of what had happened was finally hitting me. The full implication of this reckless, unthoughtful wish struck me with astonishing clarity as I took in what I had become. Maggie. Maggie. Her body was right there in the mirror, and I was in it, inside the shape of her flesh, the contours of her curves.

But worse than the shock was the pleasure I felt. A small, traitorous thrill crept up my spine as I stared at the reflection, at the body in a white tank top and panties. So this was what it was like. So this was how it felt—the body I'd looked at from a distance now looked back at me. Her reflection, her body, her shapely form confronted me. My desire to know, my foolish curiosity had done this. And part of me, the part that had secretly always wondered, was thrilled. 

She was completely, entirely mine now. Hers to flaunt, hers to explore, to touch, to learn. Mine to live in. I felt a strange, intoxicating sense of ownership, a forbidden elation that I could not suppress. An unexpected giddiness filled me at the realization that Maggie’s body belonged to me now, really belonged to me—to inhabit, to control, to be.

Suddenly, it overwhelmed the fear, the disorientation, even the guilt. It was a thrill that shamed me and filled me with a wild, dangerous excitement.